


Amber Colored Lotus Flowers

by lukeinallhisglory



Series: Spence [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Emotions, Flirting, Getting Together, Gratuitous Pet Names-because when have I ever shown restraint?, Intimacy, Love Confessions, M/M, Maybe I'll learn how to tag in the new year, Porn With Plot (but like only barely), Season/Series 12 Spoilers, Shameless Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:09:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27910549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukeinallhisglory/pseuds/lukeinallhisglory
Summary: The one where Luke's been pining, but then again so has Spencer.-Alternatively: Luke and Spencer finally, finally resolve the palpable sexual tension that I can only assume would have been between them if CBS hadn't straight-washed the show.
Relationships: Luke Alvez/Spencer Reid
Series: Spence [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043742
Comments: 12
Kudos: 71





	Amber Colored Lotus Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I should apologize right off the bat, not because there's anything awful in this as far as I know, but just because I did do this, and it's so, so, so much. 
> 
> And that's pretty much the best introduction I could give this piece, so I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Title from "53.49" by Childish Gambino

I watched Reid across the room at the bar. Some blonde guy had been standing a little too close for the last ten minutes. Reid had on his professional smile, and his posture was, at least to me, noticeably uncomfortable. Jealousy flared up in my stomach as I watched them. Not that I was jealous of this man making Reid uncomfortable, but I was envious of his ability to express his interest so openly. And even though the logical half of my brain was saying that Reid clearly wasn’t reciprocating, the other half just didn’t like anyone standing that close to him. 

I also realized that Reid was scanning the bar for something, and then I realized with an elated rush that it was me as his gaze settled on me and I watched his shoulders relax. He held my gaze until I stood up, a silent offer to come to rescue him, and then he looked away, his posture relaxing further. I crossed the room to him, fairly certain now that my help was welcome. 

“Hey,” I said softly, speaking right over the man who was somehow standing even closer now. 

“Hi,” Reid’s full attention was on me in an instant, and it felt way too good, dangerously good. 

His body language was deferential; whatever I did, he would go along with. This gave the blindly jealous half of my brain far too much license, so all creative problem-solving skills flew out the window.

I circled around behind him and wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my chin into the crook of his shoulder. Not only did he not flinch away from my touch as I had feared, he actually seemed to relax under it, his hand coming up to rest on my arm. “You ready to go home, hon?” I asked softly, just loud enough for the blonde guy to hear, but quiet enough for it to tip towards suggestive.

He twisted around to face me, and there was a brief instant where his mouth was literally two inches from mine before I loosened my arms around him, and he leaned back to look at me. I could tell from his expression that he understood what I was doing, but he also looked a little startled. I started to pull away, worried that I was making him uncomfortable, but his grip tightened. “Yeah, sure,” he agreed easily, the initial surprise fading. And then he added with pointed sincerity, “Should you be driving?”

“I’m very sober. Why, do I seem drunk?”

“Just checking,” he murmured, his thumb rubbing along my arm. I had a feeling it was more the flirting than the driving that he was asking about. I still hadn’t even acknowledged the guy who had been talking to him before I walked up, but when I looked over, he was gone.

I couldn’t see where he’d gone, and I didn’t want to risk being overheard, so I pressed in closer to speak. “Stay or go?”

“Luke,” He said softly. He must have said that exact syllable a billion times, but this was so distinctly different, and it made my heart hammer in my chest. I hummed in response and he pulled back so he could see my face again. 

“Can we go home now?” His eyes were so goddamn expressive, those furrowed brows like he was actually worried I would reject him. I had never been this close to him, something I now regretted because _look_ at him. From the professional distance I usually kept he was already gorgeous, but up close he was electrifying. For his part, he held my gaze for a long time, but eventually, his eyes dropped away from mine to my mouth. “Please,” he added.

“Are _you_ drunk?” I asked, realizing suddenly that I hadn’t asked him when he’d posed the question to me.

“I believe it’s called tipsy,” he grinned. 

“You’re touchy when you’re tipsy,” I commented. 

“You touched me!” he said defensively.

“And you liked it,” I quipped. 

“Luke,” he said again, his face flushing. “Please.”

“Yeah, okay.”

I reluctantly disentangled myself from him and let him lead me towards the exit. We stopped at the table of our friends on the way. Spencer grinned at me while I stammered out a half-hearted explanation of dropping him off that definitely raised more suspicions than it addressed. I caught a few smirks, but no one said anything. As soon as we were out in the night air Spencer was on me, pushing me up against the cold brick and kissing me urgently. 

Electricity exploded in my stomach, and I reached up to frame his face with my hands as it dragged on. I hadn’t been intending to make out with him on a public street, but his hands were up inside my jacket, and I had absolutely no desire for them to leave. 

He dipped down to kiss a scorching line along my throat, and I was able to scrape together enough focus to be self-conscious about our public display. Not to mention all of our friends and colleagues were literally ten feet away on the other side of the brick wall. “Spencer,” I mumbled. 

He huffed softly and pulled back, meeting my gaze with those expressive eyes, this time the hazel almost completely lost to his pupils.

“Come home with me,” I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my mouth as I looked at him. 

“That was not a question,” he smirked.

“It’s an offer,” I clarified. “One that I really hope you’ll take, but you don’t have to. I can drive you home and we can leave it at that.”

“What about this exact position suggests to you that I’m trying to get away from you?” he gestured between us where he still had me pinned against the cold brick.

“The part where I want to make sure that you understand you can change your mind at any point, even if you do come home with me, and I won’t be upset,” I said seriously.

“Okay,” he nodded. “Right now, that couldn’t be farther from what I’m thinking, but I will let you know. Please take me home.” He said assuredly, circling his arms around my waist.

I looked at him again, struck by his casual sensuality. It had always been his mind I was attracted to, the depth of his knowledge, of his pain, of his complexities. As a team, we try very hard not to profile each other on a broad scale, but from what I’d gathered about his romantic history, he was normally shy and self-conscious rather than overt and assertive. But it made sense in a certain way. What was typically his direct and detailed manner of profiling transformed into an assertiveness that I was deeply attracted to. 

What I wanted to know was if this was because of me or because of the alcohol. The same jealous side of my brain that had kickstarted this whole chain of events wanted to believe that it was because he was so singularly comfortable around me. 

My thumbs were skimming along his jaw as these thoughts circled around my head and he grinned at me as he waited for a response. “You’re profiling me, aren’t you?”

I smiled embarrassedly. “A little. I’m just contemplating, don’t worry about it.”

“Contemplating me?” Spencer asked softly, pressing forward against me.

“No, a case,” I bit back with fond sarcasm. And then, “Yes, you.”

“And?” he prompted, smiling down at our feet.

“And I’d like to take you home.” That made him look back up, and he grinned brightly at me.

-:-

We practically crashed through the door, startling Roxy who jumped to her feet and stood tense for a moment before she decided that there was no threat. I had Spencer up against the door as soon as it was closed, my fingers already working steadily on the buttons of his sweater. 

He let me undress him happily, but once his shirt made it onto the floor, he pushed me back by the shoulders. “Now you,” he rumbled, tugging the hem of my shirt free from the waistband of my pants. He worked on getting my shirt unbuttoned while I focused on sucking on his neck, finding just the right spot that made him whine and press forward against me.

I pressed in to meet his lips again once my shirt had joined his on the floor, his hands tangling in my hair as he kissed me back frantically. 

“Bed,” he mumbled after a minute. His voice was ragged and airy already and it sent shivers running along my exposed skin. My body was so reactive to him that all it took was a single syllable. “Please,” he added even more softly. 

I hummed and started pulling him down the hall, wrapping my arms around his waist, skin against skin. We stumbled through the doorway to my bedroom and broke apart laughing as he toppled onto the bed, pulling me with him. He took my face in his hands and kissed me again, deeper and filthier this time, and then his hands fell away from my face to drag electrically down the back of my neck.

It teetered further and further into obscenity, Spencer’s hips rolling smoothly up against me, until finally, I broke away, panting. “Can I take these off, hon?” I whispered, tapping at his belt buckle. 

“Please,” he nodded eagerly, propping himself up on his elbows. I pulled his shoes and socks off, registering the mismatched pairing long enough to feel the burst of affection in my stomach. I could not have predicted that his socks would have made me more attracted to him, but faced with it, it was undeniable.

“Please tell me you have lube,” he mumbled as I tugged his pants down his legs.

I laughed as I rid myself of my own pants, looking back up at his face to find him watching me hungrily. “Tactful,” I quipped, dipping in to press a kiss to his ribs because it was the closest expanse of skin. “Everything’s in the bathroom.” And then, “Hoping to use it, or have it used on you?” I asked, mostly just to watch him react.

He spluttered exactly like I’d hoped, his face going red almost instantly. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” I asked incredulously, fighting and failing to keep the smirk off of my face.

“What were _you_ thinking?” His voice had gone soft and deferential, and I couldn’t decide which version of him I was more attracted to. Evidently, both, if the roil of arousal in my gut was anything to go by.

“Well, Spence,” I sighed as I climbed back on top of him to straddle his hips. He welcomed me back into his space, looping his arms around my neck as I leaned down. “I’m guessing you asked about lube because you were thinking about me being inside of you.” I caught his mouth back against mine, biting gently at his bottom lip as I pulled away again. Somehow, only partially related to getting his pants off, my attraction to him had expanded exponentially in every direction since I’d last kissed him a moment earlier. 

“Is that what you want?” I murmured, landing somewhere between suggestive and affectionate.

He nodded, pressing up to kiss me more firmly, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. I could feel his desperation increase just in the way he was holding me, his arms shifting tighter around my neck. And the heat. Just the heat of his skin against the heat of my skin was enough to blur everything outside of this apartment into flimsy insignificance.

“Luke?” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose into my neck.

“I’ll be right back,” I answered preemptively, and he let out a soft breath of a whine. “You won’t even have a chance to miss me,” I chuckled.

“Yes, I will.” It was achingly sincere. “Don’t go,” he murmured, fingers carding through my hair. It sounded sweet out of his mouth, but I knew that a few layers down he was slicing himself open for me and just blindly hoping that I would stitch him back up. The whirlwind of having him in my bed lurched to a stop, ripping open into something entirely more emotional. 

“Okay. I’m right here,” I whispered. I kissed him again, charged in a completely different way this time, and he let his hands drag along the line of my shoulders and down my arms, fingers catching at my wrists. 

This moment of pure, unfiltered contact was steeped in far too much emotion for what was probably a hookup. When I looked at him, and god did I look at him, I knew in the part of my brain that had propelled me across that bar that I would do anything to keep him right here forever. I couldn’t say any of this to him. All I could do was kiss him and hope that he knew I would always stitch him back up.

Every touch crackled with electricity, but at this point, it was starting to reach dangerous heights. His hips stuttered up against me and I made myself busy sucking blooms of purple along the column of his throat. I desperately wanted to get my mouth back on his, but the noises he was making were worth the sacrifice. 

“Luke,” he groaned.

“Yes, my love?” I murmured. His eyes shot open and he gazed up at me in amazement.

“Fuck.” My profiler training was useless here; I had absolutely no idea how to interpret that. 

“Well, I guess those are my cards on the table,” I chuckled, looking away from his fierce hazel eyes. 

He didn’t say anything, but after a few seconds he reached out to tip my chin up. He was smiling brilliantly when I met his gaze again, and the combination of his hand on my face and the affection pouring off of him made my heart race. He shrugged as if to say _I’m not scared by your stupid, messy feelings_. I may have been editorializing. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked in that careful, soft voice that always twisted around beautifully in my stomach. I probably should have had more reservations, but his fingers were tracing the line of my wrist, pads of his fingers stroking at my beard, that thoughtful furrow to his brow, and anything else just felt like a lie. 

“I’m in love with you, Spence.”

He surged up to kiss me again, his fingers sliding from my chin to curl possessively around the back of my neck. “I love you, too. I love you,” he said practically into my mouth. He kissed me urgently, like he was afraid the words alone weren’t enough. Heat coiled in my stomach again, made only better by everything that we had just laid bare to each other, which extended so far beyond the words spoken aloud. 

Spencer was the person I dropped all of my walls for. He was the only person in the world who I would give up precious sleep just to talk to. He was my first thought in any dangerous situation. The first person I looked for in every room. These were all of the things that I didn’t say out loud, didn’t have to say out loud. At least not for now. And for some earthly reason, he reciprocated all of those wild, unruly feelings. 

He didn’t stop me this time when I got up, but he followed me, taking my hand. I chuckled, reeling him in with an arm around his shoulders to press a kiss to his temple. “Okay, come on,” I murmured. 

I let go of him to reach under the sink and he stood close behind me as I pulled out a box of condoms and turned to toss it back to him. He laughed, fumbling it, and then catching it just before it hit the ground. 

“And,” I grinned, holding up the bottle of lube.

“Half empty,” he said simply.

“Solo endeavors. I know you didn’t ask, but just for the record. I also have more, just so you know,” I smirked. 

He managed to blush at that while standing in my bathroom in nothing but his underwear. “Good to know,” he coughed.

“Uh huh,” I wrapped my arms around his waist and kissed him softly again. “Alright, hon.” I turned him around and steered him back towards the bed by the hips. 

I watched as he laid back down, the moonlight spilling ethereally across his pale skin, the strong lines of his body against the soft sheets. He took my breath away. “What?” he asked, smiling self-consciously.

“You’re beautiful,” I replied.

He blushed deeper, his smile brightening even further. “I can not stop thinking about you lying in this bed with _that_ ,” he looked pointedly at the bottle of lube. 

“Should I be worried that I’m standing in front of you practically naked and you have other things on your mind?”

“I’m just picturing you more naked,” he grinned.

“That can be arranged,” It should have been teasing, but it was just a little bit too breathless. 

“Come here,” he whispered, hands on my waist dragging me in. I climbed back on top of him, sweeping his hair back from his face before I pressed in to capture his lips. He groaned and his hands dragged from my waist to my hips, guiding me against him. We spent a few more minutes like that, trading heat and affection until he was biting at my neck and begging me to touch him. 

I pulled back and we just looked at each other for a beat, both of us panting and flushed. “Please,” he murmured, and it was just one word, but underneath it was a well of intimacy and trust.

I slipped his underwear down his legs, and his breath hitched as I took him in my hand and stroked slowly. He let out a shaky breath, pitching just slightly towards a whine as I continued, gripping tighter just to see him arch into my hand. 

“What works best for you? Do you want to come before I open you up?” I asked as his fingernails bit into my shoulder. 

He let out a surprised breath of laughter. “Optimistic.”

“I just want you to feel good,” I said softly.

He smiled, smoothing his thumb along the curve of my shoulder, gentle over the red dashes of the nail marks. “Yeah. I’ll need a minute to catch my breath, but yeah.”

“Okay,” I pressed my grin to his ribs, tracing the line of his waist with my lips. He looked so incredible like this, hair fanned out on the sheets, a flush running down his chest. I wanted to take him apart. I shifted further down between his legs and looked back up at him before I took him in my mouth. 

“God, Luke,” he groaned, hands flying into my hair. His fingers were gentle, combing softly through my hair in a way that sent shivers running down my spine. Rough sex can be good, and we would have time to explore that in the future if we wanted to, but the softness in his touch was exactly what I craved most from him. I couldn’t tell if he’d read that off of me somehow, or if that’s just the way he is. 

I was also fairly certain at this point that I could never be around him drinking coffee again, because god damn it if it wasn’t the exact same face he was making right now. Maybe I should have been offended by this parallel, but it didn’t bother me, not when he was making sounds like _that_. 

The sounds grew steadily louder, working up slowly from his whispered groans to keening whines of my name mixed with various expletives that I’d never even heard out of his mouth before. I don’t know exactly what I was expecting, but this was better. Spencer grabbed at my wrist as he stumbled towards release, hips stuttering as I worked him through it. I kissed a line along the pale skin of his inner thigh as I waited for him to catch his breath, his fingers still buried in my hair. 

“Luke,” he whispered, his voice electrifyingly rough. “Come here.”

I obliged, crawling back on top of him so we were face to face. He grinned at me and pulled me in to kiss him, fingers curling tightly around the back of my neck. 

“Feel good, sweetheart?” I asked softly when we broke apart. 

“I feel incredible,” he beamed.

“Do you still want to keep going?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, tracing shapes along my arm which I could have sworn were letters, but I couldn’t figure out what he was writing. “Just kiss me,” he said softly.

“Okay,” I agreed, grinning and kissing him again. We stayed just like that, an ebb and flow of urgency as it dragged on. I felt him starting to get hard again after a while, his small happy noises hitching in the middle, breaking into a whine. At this point I was so hard it was difficult to focus on anything else, especially with his tongue in my mouth and his hands low on my hips guiding me against him.

“Doing okay?” he asked around a grin as I pushed my face into his neck, my whole body tensing to try to stop my hips from rolling forward. His hands ran up and down my back soothingly, and I don’t think anything in my entire life has ever felt so good before or since. 

“Honestly?”

“Of course, babe,” he murmured and I groaned, the pet name only intensifying my current situation. 

“All I can think about is fucking you.”

He handed me the bottle of lube as an answer. I laughed and reached up to flip the lamp on so I could see his face better before climbing off of him. 

“Should I be flattered or just impressed that you’re already hard again?”

He let out a breath of laughter, fingers dragging up and down my arm. “This is your doing, trust me.”

“I know you’re actively restraining yourself from rattling off the statistics.”

He smiled wryly.

“Spence, I’m way too in love with you and way too attracted to you to be put off by it. Just tell me.” Yes, it was blunt, but I needed him to understand that there was nothing he could say to me that would change the way I felt about him. 

“The average male refractory period is about thirty minutes. Mine is usually average give or take a few minutes. This time it took me just over eighteen minutes, which is, technically speaking, stupidly fast.”

I laughed, moving back up to kiss him affectionately. “You dumbed that down for me.”

“I didn’t dumb it down, I just streamlined it,” Spencer grinned, reaching up to take my face in his hands, holding me in the kiss for a few seconds. 

“Uh huh,” I said skeptically, pecking his lips before pulling back again to sit between his legs. 

“I was trying to say I am extremely attracted to you.”

I smiled, flipping the lid open on the bottle of lube theatrically. “Comfortable?” He reached over and grabbed a pillow and I helped him wedge it under his hips. “Better?”

“Yeah,” his voice was quiet and breathy, and it sent shivers running down my spine. I wanted to take him apart. The thought was visceral, churning in my gut. I needed to see him fall apart.

“Ready?”

He nodded, making room for me between his legs, feet flat on the bed. It was a surreal moment. The ferocity of the trust he was placing in me was not lost on me. It was an invaluable gift; he was an invaluable gift. That may sound melodramatic, but after everything he’d been through, that’s exactly what it was to be trusted by him.

He let out an unintelligible puff of air as I pushed the first finger in.

“Spence, you alright?” I paused, running my other hand up and down his thigh soothingly. 

“Yeah,” he murmured, grappling for my hand. I laced our fingers together, rubbing my thumb along his.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No,” he said quickly. “You can keep going.”

It took several minutes of slow coaxing with my fingers to get him ready for me, his face relaxing gradually as he adjusted. I worked at him until he was whining softly and grinding down against my fingers, his breath coming in shaky pants. 

“Okay?” I asked.

He nodded, chewing on his lip torturedly. “I’m ready. Want you.”

He whimpered as I pulled my fingers out, pathetically sexy as if I could possibly be more turned on. I kissed his palm before letting go to rip open a condom, rolling it on and offering him my hand again. He smiled at me sweetly, taking my hand in his and squeezing my fingers. I lined myself up, pressing in slowly with a soft groan. His face scrunched up as I pushed all the way in and I stilled, watching him carefully. 

“Just tell me when to move.”

“I just need a second, sorry.”

“It’s okay, Spence.” And it was okay, but that didn’t mean it was easy to feel the tight heat of him and stay perfectly still. He braced his free hand on my hip, altering our positioning just slightly as he shifted his hips in shallow thrusts, trying to adjust. I was overwhelmed with the need to kiss him, watching him breathe deeply through the discomfort. I leaned in, but he groaned loudly before I could even connect our mouths. “Sorry,” I pulled back quickly.

“No, no, it was good, I think you just found my prostate. Come back.” I leaned back in obediently and he let go of my hand to wrap his arms around my neck. I finally got to kiss him now, and he kissed back with frantic desperation as he rolled his hips experimentally, his eyes squeezed shut. “Definitely my prostate. Definitely feels good,” he panted. At this point the feeling of being inside of him was dizzying, and I bit down harshly on his bottom lip as I broke what barely qualified as a kiss anymore to look at his face. He rolled his hips up a few more times and then opened his eyes. “You can move now.”

“Jesus, Spencer.”

“What?” he let out a breathless peel of laughter. 

“Just _you_.” 

“Luke.” It was just a whisper of a plea, those astounding hazel eyes boring into me. My body reacted without much input from me, my hips pushing forward slowly. He whined softly, barely more than a shaky exhale, pulling me in closer to bury his face in my shoulder. 

It accelerated pretty quickly from there, escalating from slow careful thrusts until I felt like I was barely breathing, lost in the feeling of his body. Spencer was more vocal than ever, mumbling endless praise. He was perfect. Of course he was. 

It had been a while since I’d shared a bed with another person, longer since I’d realized that he was the only one that I really wanted in my bed, and longer still since I’d first pictured him there. And that meant that every point of searing contact was soaked in the kind of intimacy that you couldn’t generate in one night. It was an intimate knowledge of the pieces of him that I had first fallen in love with, the depth of his kindness, the self-sacrificial fierceness of his loyalty, the contradictory combination of maturity and innocence. And it was an intimate knowledge of the darkest parts of his brain and the walls he’s built around them, of the things that truly scare him, things that bear no resemblance to the kind of violence that we witness every day. 

“Luke, I’m almost there, like really, really almost there” he groaned, those beautiful eyes fixing me with a warning look.

“Not doing too much better myself,” I panted, reaching out to push his hair back from his sweaty forehead, tracing my thumb along the curve of his cheek. “You can let go, Spence,” I murmured, kissing him softly. And he did let go, although that probably had very little to do with the timing of my statement. Between the noises he was making and the physical feeling of him coming around me it was enough to push me over the edge as well, a few stuttered thrusts and his hands skimming along my shoulders and up and down my arms.

I tied off the condom and tossed it in the trash before I let myself collapse on top of him. He let out a little oof, wrapping his arms around me with a chuckle. We were both obscenely sweaty, the sticky mess of his come smeared over both of our stomachs, but we could deal with that later. For the time being, we were content to just lie together while our breathing returned to something approaching normal. Spencer was tracing letters into my arm again, and this time I had to ask. 

“What are you writing?”

“My name,” he murmured, and I swear I felt my stomach do a literal flip.

“I love you,” I pushed my face into his neck, wanting to be closer, closer, closer. 

“I love you, too.” He kissed my ear because it was all he could reach with my face hidden. 

We stayed like that for a long time, probably almost an hour, although I’m sure Spencer could have told me down to the second. As our sweat cooled, I started to get a little too cold lying there naked. Physically separating from him sounded like an impossible task, like asking me to cut off a limb, my favorite limb. I was also acutely aware that he might not feel that way, and if he wanted a moment away from me, I needed him to know that was okay. 

“I need a shower. You’re welcome to join me, but if you’re not feeling as clingy as I am right now you don’t have to,” I murmured, kissing along his jaw where a mess of purple hickeys was beginning to form.

He arched his neck to give me better access. “There is nothing I want less than to be apart from you right now.”

I curled my fingers into his hair, pulling him in to capture his lips again. We kept kissing long enough that it started to have some intention to it before we broke apart, breathing heavily. I pulled him along to the bathroom, letting him push me up against the counter and kiss me urgently, his tongue exploring my mouth. I could not believe that he was getting hard for a third time, but sure enough. I went to flip the water on and when I turned around, he was looking at himself in the mirror, fingers tracing the bruises on his neck and jaw. I smirked when I caught his eye and he glared at me, but it lacked any real heat. 

“I guess this is as good an announcement as any,” he turned away from the mirror to face me. 

“They already knew.”

“They have a pool going for how long it would take you to ask me out.”

“Strictly speaking, I haven’t asked you out,” I said cheekily.

“My semen is on your stomach,” he quipped.

“In it too,” I said just to see him scoff and flush bright red. “The water’s hot,” I added softly, reaching out for his hand. He took it, still looking flustered which was yet again unbelievable as he stood naked and semi-erect in my bathroom. I pushed him up against the shower wall, kissing lightly along the path of bruises. “Spence?” I whispered against his skin.

He hummed in response, fingers twisting in my now wet hair. 

“I’m sorry that I skipped to ‘I’m in love with you’ and missed ‘Will you go out with me?’ Will you go out with me?”

“It’s okay,” Spencer laughed, circling his arms around my neck. “I’d love to go out with you.”

I caught his mouth with mine again, kissing him deeply. “So, do you know who won?”

“I think it’s Emily, she asked me about you earlier tonight.”

“There are probably more pools about us,” I considered.

“Does that bother you?” he asked softly, fingers curling into the back of my hair. The answer was no, but it was more than that. They had all bet that at some point Spencer and I would get together. They were all so fiercely protective of him that I couldn’t help but feel kind of honored to be bet on. 

“I think them placing bets is actually a pretty compelling endorsement.”

Spencer smiled brightly at that. “Yeah,” he agreed. 

I switched our positions, so he was under the spray of the water more fully, scrubbing my fingers through his hair. I didn’t miss the way his body reacted as my fingers dragged against his scalp. 

“That easy for me?”

“Mm,” he hummed agreeably.

“You look so beautiful right now, Spence.”

“Please,” he begged.

“Okay, slow down tiger, I was gonna wash your hair first,” I chuckled, reaching for the shampoo.

“Okay, can’t promise I won’t come while you do that,” he said obscenely, closing his eyes so I could shampoo his hair. 

I laughed, but I couldn’t deny the eroticism of the image. Especially with that dreamy look on his face and his hips already skipping forward against me. I slipped my fingers through his wet curls, massaging slowly back from his temple. I watched his face as I worked, his lips parted around shuttered breaths. He was absurdly sexy, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. I wanted to kiss him so much that I could feel it balling in my stomach, but I knew I couldn’t kiss him and wash his hair at the same time. And I was supposed to be washing his hair, just washing his hair, something that I had never imagined could possibly be so sexualized. 

Spencer looked like he wanted to kiss me at least as much as I wanted to kiss him. And if his hands wandering across every inch of me within reach were anything to go by, he also wanted me closer, skin on skin. 

-:-

By the time we made it out of the shower, it was starting to run cold and Spencer’s knees were bruised. He finally seemed sated as I wrapped him in a towel, his touch turning feather-light and affectionate, all the heat spent. 

“I have to take Roxy out before bed,” I said as I pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

“Okay,” Spencer nodded, still in his towel.

“Take anything you want from the closet. I’ll be right back,” I kissed his cheek and went to grab my jacket and Roxy’s leash. 

I couldn’t stop smiling the entire time I was walking Roxy. Just the thought of Spencer in my apartment made me unreasonably happy. When I’d gone to meet the team at the bar earlier that night, I’d had no intention of bringing Spencer back with me, but now that he was here, he seemed like a fixture. Somehow in a matter of hours he’d gone from a fantasy to a deep, all-encompassing reality. 

When I got back, I walked in on the tail end of Spencer wrangling a fresh set of sheets onto the bed. 

“How did you find these?”

“I checked every closet,” he smiled at me sheepishly.

“I would have helped you at least.”

“You can do it next time,” he shrugged. There was something deeply romantic in the practical domesticity of that statement. I went to pick up the discarded sheets, tossing them in the laundry basket. 

I had a chance to take him in now as he placed the pillows back on the bed. He’d found one of my army shirts, which was confusingly attractive but did nothing to cover the hickeys littering his neck. He was also wearing my flannel pajama pants, low on his hips because they were at least a size too big on him. 

He blushed self-consciously under my gaze. “Is this okay?” he asked bashfully.

“More than okay,” I smiled softly at him.

He smiled back, relaxing. “Okay.”

“Tired?”

“Not really,” he shrugged.

“Ice cream?” I offered.

He grinned. “Sure.”

Spencer sat on the counter while I scooped ice cream, one of my feet between his so we were half on top of each other. His hands were on me the entire time, fingers combing through my damp hair. When I finished, I handed him a bowl and led him over to the couch, our legs tangling together again as we sat. I draped a blanket over both of us, and he pulled my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles before letting go. 

“So,” I started, and he looked up at me. “What are you thinking?”

“About you?” Spencer asked astutely.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve felt like this for a while,” he said, and it was almost a question.

“Since last February,” I answered his unspoken question.

He nodded, considering that. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I couldn’t tell you I loved you while you were being framed for murder. And anyway, I didn’t have to say anything. The first time I came to visit you in prison, you read it off of me the second I looked at you.”

“That’s true,” he smiled.

“And then it didn’t seem fair to dump it on you the second you were released.” I placed my empty bowl on the coffee table. Spencer didn’t say anything for a few beats, placing his bowl next to mine. 

“Your feelings for me aren’t a burden,” he said finally, fingers curling into the hem of my shirt, knuckles brushing against the newly exposed skin of my stomach

I nodded because I didn’t know how else to respond to being so easily read. My hand found his, fingers lacing together. “When did you know?

“It wasn’t a single moment. I just noticed that you never cut me off when I’m talking. That I liked the way you looked at me. That for no rational, material reason I felt safest in the field with you. And over time loving you just became a given.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“If you asked me to marry you tomorrow, I’d say yes. Does that answer your questions?” His gaze was heavy when he looked up at me, heartbreaking sincerity. 

“Yeah,” I chuckled, leaning in to press a kiss to his shoulder. “But I think we’ll table proposing until at least after our first date,” I whispered into the fabric of his shirt.

“That sounds good.”

“Time for bed?” I offered, standing up and stretching before I reached for his hand. 

“Time for bed,” he agreed.

-:-

Impossibly, waking up with Spencer was even better than going to bed with him. When I woke up, he was curled up behind me, his arm around my waist. He woke up when I got out of bed to take Roxy out, rubbing at his eyes adorably and stumbling out of bed after me. 

I couldn’t keep the smile off of my face as he shuffled towards me while I was putting on my jacket. “Go back to bed, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.” 

He wrapped his arms around my waist and pushed into my space, nuzzling at my neck. “Can I come with you?” he whispered.

Spencer was exceptionally cuddly on the entire walk, it was both endearing and very impractical. His hickeys were even worse in the morning sunlight, startlingly visible even under his jacket. He looked completely debauched. He seemed entirely unbothered by this, laughing when I pointed it out. 

He was just as cuddly while we cooked breakfast, getting more and more tactile until I realized what was actually happening. “Spence,” I chuckled.

“Luke,” he murmured back, catching my mouth eagerly, sucking on my bottom lip. 

I reached around him and flipped the stove off before I claimed his mouth in a searing kiss, collecting him in my arms. He got me pinned up against the counter, whining and grinding against me. I slipped my hand inside the front of his pants, wrapping my hand around him. He bucked into my hand, groaning loudly into my shoulder. I took him to bed when he couldn’t stand up anymore, kissing each of his bruised knees before I took him in my mouth. 

The noises he made were magical, raw and unfettered on a new level. His mouth was incredible. He was just generally incredible. Which came as absolutely no surprise. We were definitely getting good at this, mapping ourselves onto each other’s bodies. 

We lay next to each other while we caught our breath, fingers laced between us. And then suddenly Spencer was on top of me. 

“Oh, hi,” I chuckled, hands moving to his hips. 

“I just wanted to be closer to you,” he said, sickly sweet. I slid my arms around his waist, kissing his shoulder. I didn’t mention that over the last twelve hours we’d only spent a few minutes more than an inch apart. I just held him because as much as his statement was about me, it also wasn’t about me. It was about safety and intimacy and contact, about the things that made him feel grounded and human. And if I could play even this small part in his healing, that was all that mattered. 

After that predictable intermission, we finished cooking breakfast, shirts swapped because Spencer wanted to wear the shirt I’d slept in. I agreed because he was a compelling mixture of sweet and sexy when he said things like that, and I would do anything to make him happy. 

I’d seen him in fractured survival mode, pieces of him stolen by trauma and fear. I’d seen him in all of his determined strength, grappling with his pain and winning. And I knew that to let me in he’d had to tear down his walls brick by brick and freefall, blindly trusting that I would catch him. So I didn’t take it lightly, his trust or his vulnerability or his love. I understood the enormity, even in the seemingly small acts like asking for my t-shirt. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This one in particular contains my entire heart and soul, so I would love to hear what you all think. And I'm totally serious in saying that I want to know if you hate it, I have no objectivity whatsoever so I honestly can't tell if it's awful. 
> 
> Other than that, have a wonderful day.


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